


Jukebox

by trufflemores_Glee_fic



Category: Glee
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 01:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11429922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores_Glee_fic/pseuds/trufflemores_Glee_fic
Summary: Blaine's having a great night.  Once karaoke starts, Kurt is, too.





	Jukebox

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! After receiving multiple requests to repost my old Glee fics, I have created a second AO3 account to do so. I hope you can forgive me for flooding the Glee pages over the next few days. 
> 
> I also ask for kindness regarding the quality of these fics. Over on my main AO3 account (trufflemores), I have written over 150 Flash fics; end result, my current work is of a higher quality than these older pieces. But I know how beloved old fics can be, and I respect that something I consider sub-par can be someone else's favorite. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this fic and any others you choose to read. If you choose to do so, I would also be happy to have you on board 'The Flash' bandwagon as well.
> 
> Kick back, relax, and enjoy. You have been one of the greatest audiences I have ever had.
> 
> Affectionately yours,  
> trufflemores

By ten thirty that night, Blaine was pleasantly buzzed, lounging in Rachel's basement with half the New Directions while Marley dragged Ryder over to the makeshift karaoke stage. 

Watching them all interact, it seemed funny to him how much and how little had changed.  Rachel seemed so much younger to him, bright as a sun and cheerfully unattached, living life with the current, flowing from one gig to the next.  Marley, on the other hand, had grown into herself nicely, transforming from a somewhat reserved teenager into an easygoing adult, her laugh infectious as she pulled a tipsy Ryder onto the stage.  The subtle changes were easy to overlook amid the chaos of reintroductions, but, after retiring to one of the comfier couches and watching them, Blaine couldn't miss now that they were all a little older, a little more mature.  They wore straighter shoulders, taller backs, and boasted hints of stubble (or, in Sam's case, a full-blown beard; after Kurt had refused to kiss Blaine if he didn't shave his own, Blaine had been forced to concede the Epic Beard Battle of 2016 to Sam, much to his personal chagrin).  They had changed in three years.  Blaine found that he liked that, that not only Kurt and he had come so much farther but so had their friends. 

Speaking of Kurt: "Hey, you," Blaine greeted, accepting Kurt into his arms as Kurt flopped elegantly beside him. 

Blaine didn't know how else to describe the easy way that Kurt moved: he was cat-like, all of his limbs falling into place whenever he needed them to.  It was an invaluable skill as an actor -- that sort of presence was something most aspiring actors would kill for -- and it made Blaine glad when he realized that of all the changes that had taken place, recognition for Kurt's work by his superiors was perhaps his favorite development.  He wasn't on Broadway yet, but he was snagging important roles in NYADA performances, making the connections that once would have been too far above him to even know they existed.

"You're amazing," he said, pressing a kiss to Kurt's cheek.  "Amazing, amazing, amazing."

"You're drunk," Kurt retorted, smiling and leaning back more comfortably in his embrace.

"Amazing," Blaine insisted with another emphatic kiss, turning softer as he peppered Kurt's jaw with them.

"Mm," Kurt sighed, and Blaine loved that, loved that Kurt wasn't an easy person to understand and that they had fights but Kurt still let his guard down around him.  Blaine didn't know if he liked that it was exclusive -- that Kurt rarely let other people in at all, let alone as much as he let Blaine into his life -- or if he simply loved that Kurt wanted him.  He hoped it was the latter; he didn't like to think he was that petty.

It was only Kurt's second sigh and breathy remonstrance of, "Babe," that made him stop, nestling his forehead against Kurt's shoulder instead in defeat.

Lifting his head a moment later to watch the performance, glad that Kurt was with him -- Kurt was so solid and grounding and smelled amazing -- Blaine watched to Marley and Ryder sing, a hush falling over the basement as they did so.  Restraint, Blaine thought, was a gift; he could hear every nuance of the song and still listen to Kurt hum along without the overwhelming addition of buzzed friends.  Whereas before they would have cheered them on, it was nice to sit back and listen, everything a little rosy around the edges as they sang.

"The story of my life, I'll take her home, I'll spend all night, just to keep her warm and time -- is frooozen."

It seemed like ten years had passed since Kurt and he had stood on a stage and sang the same song; Blaine almost couldn't believe that Kurt and he had actually done that, the song new to him after so much time apart.

He had loved Kurt then, but his love for Kurt was richer now.  It had acquired confidence and trust and a full repertoire of unspoken meanings; he knew Kurt's little things now, his quirks, his preferences, his habits.  He could judge without needing to ask when Kurt needed space, when he needed a hug, when he simply needed to be Kurt and exist without interference, if not total isolation.  He loved that the unspoken language between them had transformed from silent gestures to full conversations, able to read expressions and gauge moods more readily than before.

It was beautiful, being married to Kurt, and watching Ryder and Marley perform, Blaine laced their hands together -- and even that, he scarcely needed to twitch his hand before Kurt's was there, intertwining their fingers -- and basked in the memories made softer with time.

They were all different people now, shaped by different trials.  But Blaine found that he was comfortable with that, with growing up, with changing what his ambitions were and how he saw the next ten years unfolding, with who he remained close to and who he drifted apart from.

He had Kurt.  Everything else would fall into place.

When, inevitably, it seemed, they switched over to Christmas music -- despite Puck's insistence that he would maim the first person to put it on -- Blaine, already halfway to a stupor of contentment, sat up abruptly mid-song, interrupting Kurt's rhythm from playing with Blaine's fingers.

"What?" he whispered, not wanting to disrupt Rachel's solo.

"Come on," Blaine said, nudging Kurt lightly as Rachel finished Silent Night to sound applause.  "I have a song I want to sing with you."

Groaning quietly in dismay, Kurt allowed Blaine to pull him to his feet, cozily fuzzy-headed as they made their way to the stage.  Despite his initial reluctance, a grin spread across Kurt's face the moment Blaine showed him the song, his headshake fond as he selected a mic and settled into an easygoing stance at the opposite end of the stage.

And, just on cue, he sang, "I really can't stay."

"But baby, it's cold outside."

Idling forward, Kurt insisted sorrowfully, "I've got to go 'way."

"But baby it's cold outside," Blaine pouted.

"This evening has been," Kurt crooned, now close enough to twitch Blaine's bowtie playfully, "so very nice."

"I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice."

"My mother will start to worry--"

"Beautiful, what's your hurry?"

"My father will be pacing the floor," Kurt mourned, weaving around him.

"Listen to the fireplace roar," Blaine entreated, catching him with an arm around his waist, Kurt leaning back easily into it before breaking away.

"So really I'd better scurry--"

"Beautiful, please don't hurry."

Then, smiling in a helpless I'm not supposed to break character but God, I love you anyway manner, Kurt retreated back to his embrace and sang, "Maybe just half a drink more."

"Put some records on while I pour," Blaine said, letting go of him only reluctantly.

"The neighbors might think--"

"Baby, it's bad out there," Blaine insisted, wondering how often he had had that particular worry about Kurt just this past winter, wanting to bundle him away from the cold and stiffness on the streets.

Still, Kurt was all warm sultriness as he sang, "Say, what's in this drink?"

"No cabs to be had out there," Blaine joined in equally faux remorse.

Kurt's lips twitched again in a smile before he sang, "I wish I knew how to break this spell." 

"I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell--"

"I ought to say no, no, no, sir--"

"Mind if I move in closer?"

"At least there will be plenty implied--"

"If you got pneumonia and died," Blaine concurred solemnly.

"I really can't stay," Kurt insisted, brilliantly pure, as Blaine joined him in in singing, "oh but it's cold outside."

Of all the things that made Blaine happy, Blaine was pleased that singing Christmas duets with Kurt was still one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Please let me know if there are any weird coding errors in the fic! I did my best to weed them out before publication, but some will inevitably slip through the cracks.


End file.
